Not going out

It’s on days like these when I wish there was something we could do about the darkness. I don’t mean the darkness caused by politics because the will of the people™ last Thursday is that we spend the rest of eternity hearing about Brexit. I mean the darkness of the British winter.

Luckily for me, my depression is in a relatively benign phase which means I am getting by with few problems. I don’t feel like packing everything in, I am able to get up in the morning (just) and my sense of self-worth is merely grim. Trust me, grim is good for me.

My oft referred to ‘major’ writing project means I am producing a blizzard of mainly unfinished essays taking me back to times and places I had literally forgotten. I had literally forgotten that from around age 8 onwards, I dealt with my emotions by hiding under the sheets and blankets. I certainly dealt with the dark and cold that way. Nowadays, the quilt provides the same comfort.

Now, like then, I deal with the darkness of winter by not going out. And by stepping back from social engagements of most kinds. I simply can’t engage with Christmas ‘celebrations’ of virtually any kind because they have, in the past, caused me such stress and anxiety. The only difference in my life is that I now politely decline attending Christmas celebrations at the outset rather than risking the anxiety that builds in the weeks before an event occurs and boils over as it actually arrives. I’d rather sit within four warm walls.

Above all, though, it’s the dark and the fact that there’s more of the darkness than the light. Spring, on 1st March 2020, is the light at the end of my particular tunnel. If I could hibernate until then, I’d be the happiest man on earth.